


Some Families Have Traditions

by battoff



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Emetophobia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Underage Drinking, im only tagging it bc jake is twelve in this, like theres hangover shit just fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battoff/pseuds/battoff
Summary: Jake has alcoholism.





	Some Families Have Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy my third post of the night whoo new year new me new self-depreciation

They say your twelfth birthday is a game changer. Girls start puberty or whatever. Guys become, well, whatever they want really. Anyone in between gets royally fucked over like they would at any age.

Jake’s twelfth birthday certainly was something. He walked downstairs, excited to spend his first birthday in Middleborough, New Jersey, when he saw that the coffee maker was clean. He made sure there wasn’t even the slightest hint of water beading against the glass jug. And, as he entered the living room, it was confirmed. There, sitting on the coffee table, was a note.

His parents were gone. They were going to be gone for an indeterminate amount of time. There was nothing on the note wishing him a happy birthday nor where the food money was.

It shouldn’t surprise him. His parents had been forgetting his birthday since he was five years old. But still. He bit his lip, sobs clawing up his throat because it hurt. At the very least no one was there to hit him for crying about nothing. So he laid on the couch for the entire day, crying and screaming until his voice was hoarse.

...

When night fell he decided to take a walk outside. He passed by the convenience store on the corner and the alleyway where people sold stuff. Illegal stuff, he’s sure.

Someone asked him if he wanted to have a fun time, they’d make it worth his while. He stared at them and saw a brown paper bag. He’d seen enough movies to know what was in there. He asked if he could buy that instead and the person looked disappointed but said yes, only if he had the money. He did.

It was over in less than five minutes.

...

That night, the day he turned twelve, he drank for the first time. It was the night Jake Dillinger was born.

He had never felt as alive as he did that night. He loved it. He loved the way the cheap liquor burned on the way down. Loved the numbness it pulled his brain into. Loved the giddiness it brought him. He loved it so much that he didn’t stop until he was passed out on the bathroom floor.

He woke up to the smell of piss and the cool ceramic tile against his forehead. It felt nice since he was so incredibly hot but sunlight was filtering in through the window. His brain pounded in his skull and he was so very nauseous and he almost regretted the entire night. Almost.

He lurched forward, grabbed a hold of the rim of the toilet, nearly hurled as he touched something sticky, and then actually vomited into the bowl.

Jake couldn’t help but notice as he threw up liquid that, even though he felt like shit, it was the one time in his life that he didn’t completely hate himself. He supposed that he finally had that thing every single one of his classmates bragged about.

Traditions.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry to the sad sap reading this


End file.
